


Give the Angels Black Eyes

by Anonymous



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Niki | Nihachu, Gen, I'll update tags the more i write, NIKI VILLAIN ARC, Niki is pissed and it's great, Niki joins Techno, Post The Festival 2, This is my first work lol hell yeah, enderman hybrid niki
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-17 06:53:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28595778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: After the festival and the destruction of the community house, Niki snaps. She makes her way to Technoblade and Philza's house with a pledge to join them in destruction. She is surrounded by men who think they are the main characters. Niki is done with being collateral damage.
Relationships: Niki | Nihachu & Phil Watson, Niki | Nihachu & Technoblade, No Romantic Relationship(s), Technoblade & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 216
Collections: Anonymous





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is my first fanfiction ever so that's super exciting. Basically Niki's whole chat was chanting villain arc and she even mentioned she'd be open to collaborating with Technoblade so that's where this came from! I'm posting this before the aftermath of the festival (as in before the stream at 3PM EST on jan 6) so let's see how badly the canon messes this up!

Out of the thirty desperate and blood thirsty people on Technoblade’s heels, Niki is the only one who actually manages to follow. At first, it’s grueling, even in her adrenaline driven and powerfully anguished state. He seemed to have an endless collection of pearls that he threw casually, his arm a wide arc that Niki tracked carefully. Unlike her brother, she hadn’t used any of her ender features recently. Wilbur’s country was supposed to be a perfect one, one free of hatred and prejudice, but underneath all the proclaimed unity was still an undercurrent of hybrid distrust. She recognizes that trauma in the more obvious hybrids. Quackity, flawed and hurt and vicious as he may be now, is still familiar to her. His desperate need for power echoes an instinct that rings in her as well. No one can touch you if you’re in charge, no one can get you if you can get them first. She understands Fundy too, someone desperately seeking love as if to patch over the times when his hybridity earned hatred.  
It wasn’t a secret. She had told Wilbur, she had told pretty much everyone when she joined the world that she had ender heritage, but as tensions spiraled out, as war became something around every corner, she got quieter. She allowed their ideas of her-- sweet, small, an ensemble role in a city of main characters-- to wash over. She let her once powerful command over her pearl go lax. It was easy to be their token girl, to be soft and kind and tamp down any violent urges that arose. 

Though these years in L’Manburg have taught her that there is no going back, she still felt a pang of annoyance towards her younger self. She’s panting after Technoblade’s fifth throw, and she’s gasping after his tenth. Just when she thinks her rage can push her no farther, his pace settles into a more comfortable one. He tucks his pearls away and simply strides, long steps with his big black boots. Niki follows a couple hundred yards back, too far away for his eyesight, but perfect for hers. Ender people’s vision were stronger than any other creature’s, a necessary trait for the act of teleportation. 

After an hour or two, Niki’s tension ebbs. She can almost convince herself this is just a walk in the woods, a comforting stroll like the ones she took when Schlatt still ruled the world and the only thing she could do was tuck herself into a forest and get lost in nature. Or, maybe even the better days, when she and Wilbur would follow behind Tommy and Tubbo as they ran ahead, screeching and laughing. She could never return to that place, that feeling. Each person in that memory spurred a unique hurt in her chest. Wilbur had left her, had left them all long before he begged for death. Or maybe he had been begging for death for a long time. She had worked hard for his ideals, suffered through Schlatt’s taxes and mocking comments, smuggled food and more dangerous supplies out to Pogtopia in the dead of night, had spent her free days farming and sewing and prepping for what she knew would be a great battle, and all that time Wilbur had been planning to destroy it all.  
She felt grief for Tubbo, for all the decisions he had been pushed into and left alone for the consequences of. A sixteen year old managing a country, a job he had never asked for, hours being bent and pulled into the figurehead Fundy and Quackity wanted. Each time he shopped at her store, either for cookies or flowers, his eyes seemed a little duller. He ducked his gaze more. He said less and less.  
Tommy-- it burned to think about Tommy. He was like her little brother. She had cared for him, had soothed him when nightmares pounced in that large caved city, had been there beside him for the worst of it all. But he had wrecked it, just like Wilbur, he had taken all that she loved, all that she fought for, and turned it all to dust. Ground it under the weight of his bravado and impulsivity. Then suddenly, in his most destructive act, he was back in L’Manburg like it had been waiting for him. Taking charge, organizing the people as to the country’s last stand and she was so, so tired. 

She knew it wasn’t really Tommy, and somewhere in the back of her mind she regretting screaming at him, but it didn’t stop the anger.  
Everything-- everything she had worked on, everything she had built with rough stone or smooth wood or material she had gathered with care and sweat and long days, it had all been torn down by someone. Even her beloved fox that had been so kindly gifted to her was casually killed and all she got was a short sorry. She was the constant collateral damage of a group of men who all thought they were Alexander Hamilton. Now L’Manburg was supposed to die for the last time and she did not want to defend it anymore.  
Technoblade loved his Greek myths, had his whole monologue about Tommy’s role as Theseus. Niki was Cassandra, unheard and doomed to watch as Troy burned.

Technoblade eventually ended up at a nether portal, and Niki followed him in without a second thought. She was surprised at how easy it was to match his pace. She was stronger than she remembered, or at least stronger than everyone had convinced her she was. Building her secret city, hauling tons of stone back from miles away, toiling away at banging furniture together with calloused hands and she was just as sprightly as the pink haired man ahead of her. She snacked on bread she had baked that morning as she exited quietly behind him into a frozen landscape, blurred by legions of falling snowflakes.

Snow did not hurt as much as rain, but it was still distinctly unpleasant as she kept her eyes locked on the blurry red caped figure in front of her. Just as the day tipped into night, the ground became a smooth path, and she caught a glimpse of a light far in the distance. Her feet were sore, and her skin she knew was pricked with pink both from the cold and the snap and sharp pain of the freezing water hitting her. Far before Technoblade could recognize it, she saw it was a house, almost a homely one. She kept her distance as he scaled the steps and entered into the structure after a brief knock. Before the door closed she caught a glimpse of a green bucket hat and blonde hair. She had wondered where Philza had gone. 

Niki swerved and headed to the stable which held Technoblade’s most treasured accomplice, Carl. She just needed a little shelter from the snow and to figure out why the fuck she had followed him. She had left her home, she had left her home on the brink of destruction. She was hundreds of miles away from anyone who knew her. If she actually went up and knocked on his oak wood door, there was a distinct possibility that Technoblade would fit his sword into her chest. Philza liked her, she knew, but not enough that he’d protect her. Not a lot of people liked her enough to protect her. As she entered quietly, Carl let out a worried whinny. Niki made sure to back away as far as she could, and slid down against the farthest wall into a sitting position, pulling her knees close to her.  
Animals were not very big fans of her, an unfortunate side effect to her ender qualities. She avoided eye contact and kept her movements slow and small as a small anxiety attack slammed into her chest like a battering ram. Her breath came in huffs and bursts, and her head spun for a moment as it was ritually deprived of oxygen. For a moment she even thought she would faint, but steeled herself and forced air into her lungs. A wave of anger approached her, as she remembered what would happen in less than 24 hours, and before she could blink she had marched herself up to the front door and banged loudly on the wood.

The voices she heard inside ceased quickly, and silence prolonged the wait until steps approached her. The door swung open with terminal speed and Niki was faced with possibly the rarest sight of all: a genuinely shocked Technoblade. His mouth had dropped open, his eyes were wide, and his grip loosened from the sword he kept around his waist. They didn’t speak for a long while, Niki’s fire burning hot and Technoblade’s frozen body in opposition. It was silent for long enough that a figure appeared behind Technoblade, yawning and stretching.  
“Who the hell is at the do-” Phil cut off with almost a squeak as he recognized Niki’s form.  
“Hi.” Her voice was flat and sharp, and his eyebrows raised.  
“Niki, how are you doing tonight?”  
Before she could answer, Technoblade cut in fiercely, “How the hell are you here?”  
Niki answered with the same curtness. “I followed you.”  
“You WHAT?” If it was possible, Technoblade’s eyes got even wider. Phil pushed him aside and gestured for her to continue into the house. She did without a second thought, Techno left gaping at the door.  
“Wait, Phil, why are you just letting her in? She just- she followed me! What if she’s leading all of L’Manburg here, Phil, Phil I am a wanted man.” 

Niki’s hands shook at her sides but before she could spiral into another anxiety attack she took all that energy and pushed it into courage. After a quick look around the inside of the house-- warm wood walls, cute windows, a sturdy stove and refrigerator, two birch chairs and an iron coffee table, she sat down with a flourish. Techno let the door slam and stalked closer. She noticed that even with his protests, his hand had dropped from his sword. He looked almost comical, ears flopped over, cape off, wearing a simple white shirt and black breeches. In the cozy space he was small, his intimidation factor leeching away as he stood on a pink fluffy rug with a picture of Carl in an embellished frame behind him.  
“That’s my seat, Phil,” he whined. Niki crossed her legs daintily. Phil moved towards the stove and glanced back towards her.  
“Hot cocoa?” She nodded minutely. Her legs began to jitter and she uncrossed them and pushed the anxiety back down again harshly. She was pissed off and powerful. Phil watched all of this with a studious eye and she looked away before she could stop herself. She redirected her gaze to Techno, who was staring her down as well. 

“Are we ignoring the possible consequences of this Phil?” Even though his eyes never left her face, he spoke like she wasn’t even in the room.  
“I’m not going to tell anyone,” Niki snapped, “I don’t care about any of this.” Phil turned away to the stove, grabbing various ingredients and a pot.  
“Techno, do you want any?”  
“Wha- Phil!”  
“What do you mean you don’t care about any of this?” Phil asked in Techno’s shocked silence.  
“I just, don’t. Everything’s gone, Will’s gone, the community house is gone, and soon L’Manburg is going to be gone as well.” Tears crept up towards her eyes but she blinked once with force and willed them away. “Everyone sucks and no one does anything about it and I’m sick of it.” She made her hands into fists instead of letting them shake. She forced herself to raise her head high and look at Technoblade.  
“So you came here?”  
She nodded. Exhaustion swept in and her body relaxed into the chair before she could stop herself. Her skin prickled with the lasting burn of the water drying on it. She almost looked like a lobster, with the patchy redness that covered her body. 

“Why’s your skin like that?” Phil asked. Niki flinched, before her brain reminded her that Techno was not only also a hybrid, but a mob hybrid as well.  
“The snow,” she said curtly.  
“Ender?” Techno asked. Niki restrained the flinch this time.  
“Yes.”  
“That’s how you followed me.” It wasn’t a question, so she didn’t respond. “Interesting.”  
“You sound like a supervillain when you say that,” Niki couldn’t help but interject.  
“I’m the one about to join Dream in blowing up L’Manburg, I think I count as one.”  
Niki bit her lip. “Maybe.”  
“Maybe?” Techno prompted her.  
“Maybe?” Phil echoed, and handed her a mug with steam rising out of it. She took it gratefully, with a muttered thanks. It was beautifully made, a blue flower painted onto the side.  
“The government is flawed,” Niki finally said and Techno made a sound of triumph.  
“Yes! Thank you! Someone understands.” 

“I… want to help you.” Niki took a quick sip before she could stammer and babble.  
“You want to HEH?” There was another rare surprised Technoblade.  
“Yeah,” she said, a little stronger this time, “I want to help you.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Techno and Phil and Niki has a conversation. Niki has opinions, and Techno has doubts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back again with some thoughts on Techno's anarchy and the cycle of violence in L'Manburg! I just think everyone's power dynamics are so, so interesting, and I wanted to expand on them a bit. I think Niki is the perfect character to do that with as she's been a part of every major event in L'Manburg, and maybe suffered the most.

“No. This is a trick.”   
Techno rushed to the windows and started opening each one, ducking his head out and quickly back in in case of sudden projectiles. He flipped the doors open and closed as he double checked and triple checked, muttering to himself the whole time. Niki managed to catch bits and pieces of it -- “I would be able to see invis if they were near, I would notice, Carl would notice,” as Phil sat down in the other chair and took a sip of cocoa from his own mug, one which was clearly painted by a child.

It was all contrasting and muddled colors, with four mangled stick figures. Niki’s heartbeat slowed, wobbled, her body going ice cold as she recognized Wilbur’s iconic beanie amid the subpar art. The figure next to him had a cloud of pink surrounding his face, and there was a green blob on the tallest figure’s head that had to be a hat. 

A family portrait. She had arrived into a home of a family fractured, a family in mourning for the dead and the son who wished they were dead. 

Tommy’s words in the ruins of the community house had hit Techno like a bolt of lightning. His eyes went wide, then narrowed, but not with hate. They narrowed with sorrow, a longing clear on his face for every enemy to take advantage of, as he promised Tommy that he could still get them out of this, that Tommy could still come home. Dream certainly saw that fracture in Techno’s armor and had pressed hard until he heard a crack. 

Tommy… Tommy had hurt her completely. He had wrecked the community house. He had dragged Ranboo into his destructive habits, coercing him into griefing George’s house.   
Her anger, though it burned hot and bright, was not an anger towards Tommy. It wasn’t his fault. It was the system of revenge that took every injustice as a time to fight rather than a time to heal and mourn. 

One hurt piled on another, as spy after spy and traitor after traitor lied and switched sides until there were only angry people who thought they alone were the heroes. Theirs was a world in which retaliation was the only answer that would allow them to sleep softly at night. If they were always righteous, violence was always justice. 

Tommy was just a cog in that machine Wilbur had set in motion. He had done harm, yes, but he was a sixteen year old forced into a war.   
Her brother was right. Choosing sides led to more conflict, a never ending cycle of pain. Choose the people, not the country. That was the thing everyone got wrong. That was the thing Wilbur got wrong. His symphony couldn’t be finished, because L’Manburg was the people, and the people kept on living. 

“I think that L’Manburg does need to be destroyed. Nothing good has come of it. All it’s done in its existence is cause pain.” Her emotions threaded through her voice, choking her throat and making her words rough, but she didn’t stop. 

“I love L’Manburg. Everyone forgets, but I was one of the people who created it. I was there when they built it, and I lived there throughout all of Schlatt’s,” she spat his name out like it was toxic, “presidency. I lived there through the wars. I’ve lived there long enough to know that it’s poison.” She echoed her brother’s speech, something she was so, so proud of. “It was just a drug van.”

Techno turned from the window and looked at her. Actually looked at her.   
Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, though bits of hair were escaping and sticking out at weird angles. Her overalls and shirt were a little damp from the snow, covered in mud, and her arms were still splotchy red and stinging. She was almost laying in the chair at this point, as her body betrayed her and sunk into the warmth and cushion of the piece of furniture. She knew she looked tired. She was exhausted. 

She was battle-worn and calloused. Life had not been easy in L’Manburg. Schlatt’s tax had hit her hard, and in her ender chest now she only had a diamond chestplate and diamond pants, and had to make do with iron boots and helmets. She had barely half a stack of emeralds. They were so busy with the war, and rebuilding, she had no time to mine for more with getting her bakery up and going and the flower shop. Flowers and bread didn’t cost that much, and too often she gave them out for free to all her friends toiling endlessly to make L’Manburg a beautiful place again. 

“Well, you know that’s not exactly my stance about how L’Manburg is bad because of governments, but it does align with the destroying L’Manburg part so I think this might still work out well.” Techno absentmindedly fiddled with his sleeves as he thought. Phil went up and got her a refill. 

“You have to promise not to go inventing any more governments though. I feel like you’re the last of the old guard that hasn’t been president, so you’re really likely to take that up.”

Niki physically recoiled from that sentiment. Being president had destroyed the people she loved. Wilbur, Tubbo, even Tommy, for the short time he had been vice president, had all been overwhelmed by the power they wielded. She did not want cabinet meetings and war councils and all the stress that came with that. She wanted a house and friends and work days that turned into sweet nights. 

“Would a neighborhood council work?”  
“Heh.”  
“Well, anarchy is anarchy, but when you coexist with others you have to have some agreed upon rules, and some way of enforcing them.” 

“That’s. That’s just another form of government,” Techno looked uneasy though, and Niki pushed on.  
“When you live with Phil you have some rules, right? Phil, are you allowed to attack Carl?”  
Phil chuckled into his mug, “Oh, definitely not.” Techno made an exasperated gesture towards his father and very clearly mouthed ‘why are you helping her.’

“And if Phil were to attack Carl, you would have to talk about it, right? You would have to discuss how to avoid that in the future, maybe work out a trade of emeralds as the cost for Carl’s death.” Niki had set her mug down on the table and began gesturing unconsciously as she became more passionate. 

“People, when given the chance, will generally be kind to each other. That doesn’t mean that there shouldn’t be guidelines, like ‘if you take from the community garden, please replant.’ It doesn’t mean that there shouldn’t be something like a punishment, but not a harsh one. Oh, you, say, burned someone’s house a little?” 

Phil winced at the reminder, and Niki continued a little softer, “The answer is a fine. Maybe some community service. The person responsible for the damage is the one who provides the materials needed and helps rebuild it. The buildings are buildings because people live in them, not because they represent a country.”

“You’ve certainly thought about this a lot, haven’t you?” Techno tapped his cheek in thought, “You seem genuine enough, and no one’s showed up to kill us yet…” Phil and Techno locked eyes and began some sort of silent conversation. 

Niki had to look away. She used to be able to do that with Tommy, and Tubbo, and Will, and Fundy. She used to be able to catch Tubbo’s eye across the table as Will and Tommy argued about the most stupid things and she and Tubbo would both see a spark in each other’s eyes and they’d almost fall on the floor laughing. In a glance she could recognize a hurt in Fundy that she could soothe with a tight hug and a cookie. 

One look and Wilbur would pull out his guitar and play for her, when Pogtopia got cold and all they had was each other. 

She hadn’t been close enough with someone to do that in a while, other than with her brother. She was hoping, with Puffy-- but they weren’t at that level yet. 

She looked up just in time to see Phil and Techno nod before Techno spoke up.   
“Considering that the revolution is supposed to happen in like… twelve hours, do you need a place to stay?” Techno drawled. Phil gestured for her cup and she relinquished it. He headed for the sink while Techno waited for her answer.

“...Yes, probably.”  
“Alright, we have a couch back there, you can sleep in my room, do you need clothes?”

“I have clothes in my ender chest.”  
“What kind of person uses their ender chest for clothes?” Niki wasn’t sure if that comment was supposed to be to himself or to her but she answered anyway, “a person who doesn’t have a lot.”

“Oh, right,” Techno thought aloud, “You were the one that Schlatt taxed.” She couldn’t hold back a flinch at his name.

“Sorry.” His voice was genuinely apologetic. That was the thing about Techno she had noticed in their brief interactions in Pogtopia and beyond, even in his Theseus speech and first attack on L’Manburg. When he spoke, he spoke with absolute conviction. When he promised to end all governments, it wasn’t because he viewed himself as inherently evil. He was simply coming up with a solution to a problem. 

Niki did see it as overly simplistic. Society needed some order, even if it was just human rights. Not everyone in a position of power was automatically corrupt, as long as there was a system that kept them in check. She supposed that had been the hope with Tubbo, that this one lone sixteen year old would be moderated by a larger cabinet, but that same greed had infected Fundy and Quackity until Tubbo was just a figurehead and everyone else used their authority to do whatever they wanted. 

Techno led her further into the house, which opened into a small room with what looked like a simple but comfy bed. 

There were a number of bookshelves in the corner, and a small dresser she could see red fabric peeking out of. Techno left for a moment while she took the space in, and returned with two heavy blankets. At her look he explained, “Phil and I are used to the cold. You’re not.” 

Niki accepted them gratefully. Techno went to leave, and Niki spoke up, “Technoblade,” eyes narrowed and voice steel, “We aren’t going to kill anyone.”  
Techno gripped the door frame and looked back towards her, “We’ll see.”

“No,” Niki took a step closer to him, “That’s not the lesson they need to learn. Homes can always be built again. Lives are not so easily returned.”

Techno fidgeted, “I can’t promise anything.” He turned quickly to leave, but he couldn’t escape Niki’s soft voice.   
“Technoblade, in anarchy, all you have is each other. A world without people is no world at all. You want to save them from their mistakes, go ahead, but remember, in your strength you are not exempt from the corruption of power. In a vacuum of leadership, the strongest person becomes the authority.”

He inclined his head, and left in silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed! This is really fun to write, and I'll continue my canon divergent rewrite of the events of Jan 6 in the next chapters :) I'd love any critiques you have, I want to make sure it's the best it can be!


End file.
